


Mission Protocol

by sniper_clam



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain america movies - Freeform, Dissociation, M/M, Pain, Poetry Slam, all the feels, blame my flatmate, how CW should have ended, it does have a happy end, poem, things my crazy brain does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniper_clam/pseuds/sniper_clam
Summary: Bucky and Steve through the years - a poem (a looong poem).





	1. Location: New York City, Brooklyn, 1930s–1940s

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hsu/gifts).



> As this was written in the stlye of a poetry slam, it's meant to be read out to have the proper effect. This is also why some line endings don't rhmye (and other words are in bold - they indicate the rhyming end of the line while the acutal word flow has to go on).
> 
> Thank you to All_I_need for proofreading this and helping me along with the title :)
> 
> Basically, this is a thank you to all those writers in the Captain America fandom I'm slowly working my way through. My flatmate was overexcited to hand me lists and lists upon recs (still only at list 3) and share her favorites with me (as well as the fluff, the love and the pain) – you can imagine the text messages that went back and forth.
> 
> So, yes a THANK YOU to all those authors and their amazing stories (although some of them tore my heart out) – never stop writing - this one is for you.

There they are – two friends standing side by side.  
Starlight covers Brooklyn in a silver blanket spread wide.

One boy is dark and tall,  
the other fair and small;  
both blue-eyed and poor,  
one working three jobs and down at the docks to cover their rent,  
the other's breath already **spent** by running down the street.

One thing, however, they know for sure.  
They may not dine like kings, own that much or have a cure  
for all of Stevie's ills  
– but their friendship still  
is a bond that never **will** be broken.

After paying the rent  
there was not much left they could spend  
on dances and cigarettes, on pencil and paper,  
but that was enough as long as their friendship stayed true.  
There may be fights and stubborn pride,  
days spent not saying anything, sitting side by side  
pretending not to feel the prickling tension and lull  
that slumbered and awoke with the **dull** , lazy hours  
\- precious and so few- lying in the sun, taking a **drag** of that cigarette  
and letting the day's tension fall off, forgetting about **Meg** from down the street.  
The one with that **sweet** smile  
that made Steve's heart **rile** d up  
in those dark hours Bucky is away dancing through the night.  
His chest so **tight** he could not sleep,  
those tears he would not weep  
stubbornly held back.  
This strange aching tension in in him held in **check** by the fact  
that it's him and Bucky 'till the end of the line  
and as long as that's true they'll be fine.

But then the war came calling  
and they saw the life they knew **falling** to pieces around them.  
Steve clinging to the **hem** of Bucky's shirt,  
trying to find the words to say that he will follow – somehow. He will also crawl through the dirt.  
He will fight in this war  
even if this view of Brooklyn will be the last thing he ever saw.


	2. ID: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Sergeant, 107th Infantry Regiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care while reading, as torture is alluded to in this "chapter" of the poem.

There they are – two soldiers standing on the battlefield,  
one sniper-calm, the other only carrying a shield.

Joining the war he had known this might happen;  
that the enemy would lie in wait and trap ‘em,  
with no chance of being saved or breaking out.  
When the **stout** little man came again to **take** one of the men  
– with wife and kids at stake -  
Bucky offered himself, determined not to break  
under whatever they did.  
But he never expected to find a laboratory they hid  
‘neath the Italian mountains  
and that stalking out of fountains  
of smoke and dust  
a distorted version of the skinny boy he would **trust** with his life came calling.  
“Bucky”, Steve said, suddenly tall and strong,  
begging him to move along.

His veins on **fire** , his legs heavy like lead;  
he did not want this shit-hole to be his funeral pyre.  
So despite the **dire** condition his body was in, he clenched his teeth and with a **will** of steel  
ran through the hundred tunnels beneath the hill.  
He kept running after Steve, pushing him ahead,  
watching his six because he’d rather be shot dead  
than let his best friend die here  
\- in this place where fear  
saturated the air  
and agony was almost too much to bear.

“Give it up for Captain America”, he yelled back at camp.  
They were surrounded by a crowd.  
Steve blushed and the cheering got so **loud** in Bucky’s ears  
when people shrugged off their fears  
and moved in to hug the new hero of war.  
Inside Bucky was barely standing, feeling raw  
to the very bones – and that’s when no one saw  
the smile slipping off his face.  
His **gaze** \- bruised blue downcast and weary.  
There was no joy, just burning and pain and a dreary  
realization that ate at him. Now his best friend was here  
\- the home he held so **dear** and needed to return to –  
and was fighting and taking out enemies by his side  
when all Bucky had ever **tried** to do was keep him save.  
But he would follow him, follow his friend  
\- even if his live was already spent.


	3. ID: Steve Grant Rogers, Captain, Super Soldier Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care, as suicide is mentioned in this "chapter".

There they are – two young men believed to be dead.  
Both imprisoned by ice, their will to go on has long fled.

The day on the bridge could not be rewound,  
the young man who would stand by his side - the sniper, the Sergeant, his best friend - would be found.  
But there were urgent missions to fulfill,  
plans to prevent and the Red Skull to kill.

Only then would he be free to mourn, to grieve, to go back and get Bucky.  
And maybe – if he was lucky -  
he would no longer need to sell all those lies  
\- to their allies and troops – that were the **price** to pay for who he became.  
Sitting on the **plane** that would destroy so many,  
his voice is choked and full of **shame** as he tells his final lie  
because to save thousands, he has to die.

A small price to pay, he **thinks** and hears Peggy smile.  
He promises to go to that dance with her, have those drinks.  
He makes his voice smile and he **clings** to the call  
when all he can see is his best friend fall and fall and fall.  
In the end, the crash won’t hurt at all …


	4. Codename: Winter Soldier (the Asset)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lives reach the new century - and its not the happiest of turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care while reading. This is about the Winter Solider and Hydra (i.e. indirect mention of torture). This "chapter" also contains dissociation.

There they are – two pieces in a game.  
One called _asset_ bathed in shadows, the other called _target_ shrouded in so-called fame.

Years and years ago  
he lay dying in the snow -  
his body broken and in pain;  
his left arm had nothing to **show** but a broken mess.  
Then the Red **Room** came  
and saved his life (or brought his doom).

The years and decades that followed **soon** thereafter  
it can hardly remember.  
They named it after the coldest December  
\- their priced soldier, their asset, their knife -  
they gave it a target and it took that life -  
no asking, no demands.

The asset was trained to feel no emotion, to ignore its pain.  
They sent the soldier out again and again  
to keep playing their game.  
The asset complied, silent and cold,  
but inside it felt so old, so old.

That thought it never muttered  
for if only one of its actions stuttered  
the pain would come.  
Water. Earth. Fire. Fists. The Chair …  
Oh, no. Its handlers did not care  
how bad the asset was hurt or how it roared and screamed.  
It was only important that it was **deemed** compliant,  
that their orders were heeded.  
Humanity was not **needed** for a weapon.

Dealing with death – that’s what the asset was trained to do.  
The chair and cryo it could go through  
with no memories of who the asset was or what it did.  
But now, now the asset keeps seeing this kid  
\- all tall and muscled and no longer sick.  
“It must all be a trick”  
it thinks, but cannot dislodge that scene  
of a bridge and a man and of something that might have been.

The assed knows that it will be punished for speaking out loud,  
but the target in the crowd  
\- his face won’t let go of the asset’s mind that has nothing to show,  
to untangle this mess that is some kind of maze  
made of dark and ice, terror, a scream and that gaze...

The handlers punish failure,  
and the asset knows for sure  
that the pain is deserved and that there is only one cure:  
_Heed the handlers, kill the target_ -  
even if his mind will **darken** **at** the thought  
that this memory was for **naught** but pain.


	5. Location: New York City, Brooklyn, present day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming full circle in Brooklyn in the 21st century.

There they are – two enemies, facing each other.  
Both orphans of time, but once they’d been closer than brothers.

Even after all these years he’s just a circus monkey  
\- _Yes, sir. Copy that_ – doing what he’s told,  
serving the lies the governments sold.  
He feels old, so **old** in his wary bones,  
in this world that has moved on without him.  
Left him with neither kith nor kin;  
not even his home is what it used to be.  
From the corner of the eyes he would **see** a familiar shape,  
only for it to dissolve once he looks closer.

He has to keep believing that it will get better, but it never really does.  
Days blend into another, nothing is really worth the fuss  
But then **Bucky** came back to life so eerily silent.  
For just one second he felt lucky,  
felt he needed to **tuck it** in a safe corner of his mind  
even when Buck  
would have thrown a **truck** at him.

Steve knows what to do now,  
friends and support from this new century in tow  
who keep warning him that it might be too late,  
but he can’t … can’t give in to that **hate** that Hydra sows.  
His resolve only grows  
because he knows  
that Bucky is still there -  
somewhere, drowning and fighting, waiting and in pain.  
He feels no **shame** to be called _enemy of state_  
for he won’t let **hate** stand in the way of what is right.  
So tonight  
he will be that scrawny boy from Brooklyn once more,  
who never feared a chore,  
who never backed down from a fight  
even when he **might** not get back on his feet after.

Now that he has a mission, his way is clear.  
He knows no fear  
with his best friend once more by his side,  
Brooklyn a **light** with a thousand lights and stars,  
and them with all their scars  
from war and torture and things unsaid.  
There is only one truth left to be **had** \- in this strange new century:  
“I’ll be with you ‘till the end of the line  
because your future … it is also mine”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This crazy poem that kept me up at night and distracted me at work (and gave me so many other lines I did not use in this one - so there may be more to come from me as a poem) is also a special tank you to my flatmate for sharing her joy and her OTP with me in such abundance.
> 
> I may not be the best to write a fanfic with Steve and Bucky (I would never get them right) but I’m not too bad with poems (I hope) so that’s what you got – a poetry slam of Captain America and how Civil War should have ended. It contains the good old days, the bad, the pain but also a happy end because you know – hey deserve one and becasue my flatemate would come after me if they didn´t ;)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it...


End file.
